Chapter Three #2
As soon as I step out of the elevator on the ground floor lobby, my eyes find his piercing blue pools straight away.
That intense stare, solely focused on me, I fucking love it when he’s this conscious of my presence.
It sends a whole new overwhelmingly thrilling sensation over me.
He’s standing near the car like a Greek god.
His style is understated. He deliberately looks careless, yet his clothes stand out even more because of the six-foot-two beefcake wearing them.
I can see the three buttons of his Henley—the first two undone—the black waistcoat, and jeans under the gray coat.
Long, wavy strawberry hair that blends golden blond with hints of red is as usual tied in a half ponytail, with some locks strategically loose to cover the left side of his face.
I hate that he feels the need to hide a part of himself so much that I can see myself shoving the fingers of both hands through those thick waves, plunging into the softness only to hold his head captive as I pull him down toward me.
A low groan escapes me. I'm getting close to the car. Ahh, those beautiful eyes, chiseled jaw, and perfect cock-sucking lips. Fuck, I didn’t know my mind could turn this dirty. Where does all this desire come from when I’ve spent years just using my hand?
I smirk at him as he opens the car door. “Morning, bunny.”
His grunt surely translates into a fuck off.
I almost giggle. I love this gorilla side of him.
As we both get in, I hear the low hiss leaving his lips when he presses his shoulder against the leather seat.
I don’t like when he gets hurt, especially when it’s pointless—I could have avoided that knife, easily.
He’s just so overprotective sometimes…and I fucking like that too.
The inside of the car smells like menthol cigarettes and shampoo. I fill my lungs with it, knowing this is all River. Soma greets me politely from behind the wheel. After the car starts rolling down the street I ask him, “Any problem with the package yesterday?”
He replies straight away, “No boss. Left it in front of their warehouse. I saw two of Ling Wang’s men bring it inside.”
My lips curl into the most devilish smile imagining Fuckchill’s expression when he looked inside. Maybe one of those rattlesnakes injected him with a deadly enough dose of venom. I turn to look at River, but instead of an exasperated raised brow, I meet a distant expression.
“You getting the midnight blues?” I poke him, this dark mood might be caused by someone else. And I don’t like it. If something upsets him, it has to be me. No one else.
“It’s nine thirty in the morning.”
“My baby bunny is broody.” I give him an excessively frowny face.
His expression turns cringey. “Fuck, don’t call me that.”
“Baby or broody?”
“Both,” he growls. Grumpy much?
“Prefer honey and pouty?” I tease him. I want his attention on me.
The corner of his mouth quivers like he’s attempting to keep from laughing.
“Sweetie pie and frowny?” I keep going. Now I want to see a smile.
But I only get a lip twitch in response.
“You angry about the snakes in the box? Fuckchill needs to know I’m not fucking around. And if I can have some fun while doing it, hallelujah!” He stays silent. “Come on. I know you’re pissed.”
“Am not.”
Word-constipated fucker. I chew my gum noisily, knowing how much he hates it. “Where did you go last night?”
“Home.”
I smack my lips as I try to keep my temper down.
“Why?” My tone is cold, but the ice is quickly cracking.
“I wanted to.”
“Are you being an asshole on purpose?” I snap.
“That’s your specialty,” he retorts with a brief, close-mouthed smile.
I lift my arm and give his half ponytail a hard pull.
He growls my name, and I wish he’d do it while balls deep inside me—how would that feel with a real dick? My inner muscles clench. I’ve only used dildos. I’ll find out with him, I promise myself.
Soma pulls over in Midtown, and I get out before giving them a chance to open the car door. If I keep imagining climbing into River’s lap like this, I might actually do it. He needs time to process it all. A day. Then I’ll strike again.
I swiftly make my way into the headquarters’ high-rise building, knowing River is behind me.
We are one of the five largest yakuza families in Japan, secretly controlling the maritime trade.
That’s how we branched out in LA, by sea, building a few import/export companies.
Our involvement in the US revolves around drug trafficking, smuggling, gambling, extortion, and money laundering through offshore entities and real estate investments.
I kind of miss LA, but I think I’ll be fan-fucking-tastic here. New York is my oyster. I need to create my own cradle here before getting full reign of the whole organization in a distant future.
I cross the sparkly lobby, wave at the security at the front desk, and get in one of the spacious elevators. The people behind me turn abruptly silent upon seeing me. I’ve been here a week, but every single employee in the whole building knows I’m the boss/CEO and acts accordingly.
Fucking love my life.
I purchased this construction company, adding it to the Hebikawa conglomerate a year ago, and through corporate fraud, financial scams, and manipulation of the industry, I’m seeing it grow. I have big plans for branching out next into electronics and even entertainment.
I exit the elevator on the top floor and go down the corridor.
Trevor, my secretary, is on the phone. He looks like a thug with those leather pants and scarred knuckles.
But that’s one reason why he’s such a good assistant—he knows how to deal with assholes.
He’s an old dog. Became part of the family when my grandfather was still the kumicho.
He covers the receiver to tell me the big boss is waiting in my office. I already inferred that by looking at the two men in black standing on each side of the doors. They both bow when they see me.
Moving to the Big Apple was my idea to put some distance between me and my aunt…the big boss, with her watchful eyes and even more vigilant spies. She’s here to check on me, after a mere week. Talk about distrustful, overbearing relatives/big bosses.
I push the heavy doors open—which feel more like the gates of hell today—ready for whatever battle she’ll start today.
A cloud of smoke awaits me. My aunt is sitting on one of the cream sofas near the large window, the butt of a cigarette perpetually residing on her lower lip.
She’s wearing a black silk kimono with a white snake pattern, looking all graceful and proper when in reality she is a vicious, cussing machine.
She likes to say to people that she raised me, but the truth is that she was barely home.
And even when she was, all she did was remind me of my role in the family and what was expected of me.
Affection is an absent word in her vocabulary.
Still, she gave me everything I needed, and when I followed her orders she fulfilled every last one of my whims—including having River.
The times I rebelled, well, her punishments were unconventional at best—kneeling under a waterfall taking the brunt of the cold-as-fuck water on my head for hours tends more toward torture.
“Ane-san.” I bow in the traditional Japanese greeting. “You alone?”
“Aren’t we all?” she teases with her raspy voice, as I move to the oversized desk to drop my jacket. I expected more men, since she always has a cloud of them around her. “Spit that damn gum out!”
I do as she says.
“Gaijin,” she addresses River, insisting on using that archaic nickname after all these years.
“Kumicho.” He gives her a deferential bow before moving to the window to crack it open. Then he positions himself like a good bodyguard near me.
The door opens letting one of the men in black inside. She snaps her fingers and waits with her hand up until he places a glass filled with Perrier water in it. She takes a sip and then lets the man place it on the coffee table before he gives her a napkin to pat her mouth with.
When I was a kid I thought she used this Cleopatra act to remind people she was the undisputed leader of the yakuza, but I learned soon enough that she actually enjoys flaunting her power.
“Did you wait long?” I see two cigarette butts lying in the glass ashtray on the coffee table.
“You are one minute late,” she scolds me, throwing the napkin on the floor and forcing her man to pick it up.
“Which is fourteen minutes earlier than usual,” I retort cheekily.
She cusses under her breath. “I didn’t punish you enough, you’re still a brat.”
I give her a beaming smile, pressing my butt against the desk’s edge.
“Did you meet with Ishida-san?”
Straight to work as usual.
“Not yet. He seems occupied at the moment.” The old man has been scheming against us…
forever. Apparently the Ishida family was the ruling one once upon a time until my grandfather killed his great-uncle and obtained the kumicho’s title.
He’s been salivating to get it back while kissing my aunt’s ass like a pro—and that’s not an easy thing to do. I love her, but she is a royal bitch.
“He invited me to his grandchild’s ceremony.”
“Mm. Power play.” She tsks, patting the sofa cushion in invitation. I push away from the desk and sit near her. I know she isn’t going to help me with the Ishida boss, and I don’t want her to. That would undermine my position.
“Keep an eye on Ishida-san. You are at a loss here, moving on his home field, he has a big advantage. You can easily deal with him, just don’t be too…you.” My aunt loves to give backhanded compliments. It’s her daily bread.
She is bold and fearless, rules the organization with an iron fist and a merciless approach. She is always ten steps ahead of everybody, that’s how she took my grandfather’s position after he died. Being a woman, holding that much power in this line of business is a daily battle.